


an open eye

by spacebubble



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Coda, Episode: s05e09 The Ascent, Holodecks/Holosuites, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Frustration, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation, Solid!Odo, just getting right up in that personal space.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: Neither of them had slept well after the mountain, but now they’re sleeping just fine.All they’ve been doing is falling asleep together.They can’t go on like this.





	an open eye

**Author's Note:**

> post-Ascent writing exercise in hard quodo and a mess of feelings, but the mess lightens up a little by the end.

Quark wakes up to a face full of pillow and a comforting weight along his back.

He rolls over.

Odo hasn’t woken up yet. He rarely ever wakes up before the alarm nowadays.

A faint smile softens the Changeling’s unfinished face. He sleeps soundly, and he sleeps better when Quark’s around.

Neither of them had slept well after the mountain, but now they’re sleeping just fine.

Some of Odo’s hair has fallen over his eyes, and Quark reaches out to smooth the strands away.

He looks at the sleeping face underneath his palm and thinks about kissing the faint smile open.

All they’ve been doing is falling asleep together.

They can’t go on like this.

 

* * *

 

It takes two hyposprays to deal with Odo’s sleeping problems.

One knocks him out until the morning, the other clears his head when he wakes.

Simple enough. Except Odo wants to try something else.

Quark leans his palms on the bar counter, thinking, as Odo waits for his reply.

The Changeling sits on the opposite side of the counter, posture straight as ever. But his shoulders slump with fatigue, and it’s almost closing time. And Quark can’t have him falling asleep in the bar again.

“I thought the hyposprays were helping,” Quark says.

“They are,” Odo replies. “But I don’t want to rely on hyposprays for the rest of my life.”

Odo leans his elbows onto the counter and leans his face into his folded hands. The knuckles of his thumbs dig into his pressed lips.

It’s distracting.

Odo moves his head just enough to speak around his hands. “And you haven’t been sleeping well, either.”

“I never sleep well.”

“Even so.” Odo’s eyes are bloodshot, tired. The hyposprays only handle the sleeping and the waking. They don’t do anything for his eyes. “It could be mutually beneficial. What do you say?”

Quark sighs. “Just sleeping?”

“Just sleeping, Quark.” Odo almost sounds apologetic. “That’s all I want.”

Quark can’t say the same.

He thinks about waking up to a shared bed, the comfort of proximity, the soothing presence of another body next to his.

Even if it’s just sleeping, it’s still an opportunity.

Even if it doesn’t lead to anything, it’s still better than sleeping alone.

Isn’t it?

Besides, apparently he's better than a sedative. Odo hasn't been able to fall asleep anywhere besides the bar. And only when he's around. 

It's almost flattering.

“Fine,” Quark says. “I’ll give it a shot.”

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, after Odo falls asleep, Quark sneaks off to the sonic shower.

One hand covers his mouth. The other hand covers himself.

He handles his frustration alone, until he’s exhausted, until the shower washes every trace of his frustration away.

Odo doesn’t wake up when he slips back into bed, but sometimes Quark thinks he knows.

 

* * *

 

They spend the first night at Odo’s, and Quark has problems falling asleep.

Everything’s foreign. The bed feels too new. Odo’s pillow isn’t soft enough. There’s only one blanket and Odo doesn’t believe him when he says it’s too thin.

(“If you miss your blankets, we can sleep in your quarters tomorrow,” Odo told him, shutting his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow. “But tonight, Quark, let me test only one variable at a time…”)

He shivers as he stares at the ceiling. Quark’s been staring at the ceiling for at least an hour, and it’s still a few hours earlier than his usual bedtime.

(Broik hadn’t asked any questions when Quark told him to take over the closing shift. Good man, Broik. Quark might even reduce one of the routine deductions from the waiter’s paycheck. For a couple weeks, at least.)

All through the night, Quark hears Odo’s steady breathing, synchronizing with the persistent rhythm of the Changeling’s new heart.

He tries to concentrate on the sounds.

He remembers staring at his ceiling months ago, unable to shut out the sounds of Odo changing from one animal to the next. Hooves walking backwards, wings brushing against the air. The irregular movements of furred paws on carpet. The gentle liquid rustle of Odo’s natural state.

All those shapes, locked away where Odo can no longer reach them.

Quark shuts his eyes.

He hears Odo’s quiet breathing and Odo’s heart beating.

He wishes he could stop listening.

 

* * *

 

When Quark steps into the sonic shower, he doesn’t think of anything specific.

His mind travels from moment to moment, image to image, sound to sound.

Anything to hurl himself closer to completion and get to sleep. A temporary reprieve from all the touches that never lead to anything besides simple touching.

He tightens his hand around himself as he imagines being pressed against the mattress and making good use of Odo’s soundproofing.

His other hand muffles the yearning noises he makes.

 

* * *

 

It takes Quark a moment to realize where he is when he wakes up that first morning.

The walls are bare and the blanket’s thin. There’s only one pillow, and it isn’t very comfortable.

He’s in Odo’s bed and they didn’t have sex.

This is a mistake.

“My arm’s trapped under your neck,” Odo says, gently shaking the captured limb for proof.

“Oh,” Quark says. He lifts his head and Odo slides his arm out, moving it to rest along the top of the pillow. “Why’d you put it there?”

“Easier to hold you,” Odo replies. His eyes aren’t bloodshot anymore. He looks well-rested. Almost happy.

And Quark suddenly realizes Odo’s other arm is still around him.

His eyes widen.

Odo frowns. “Is something wrong? Are you still cold?”

“Cold?” Quark repeats dumbly. Every part of him feels like it’s about to overheat.

“You kept shivering last night.” Odo eyes him, wary of being suspected. “Holding you seemed to help.”

Quark nods. “It does. You should keep doing it.”

Odo chuckles like he’s heard a good joke, but Quark wasn’t joking.

“We ought to get out of bed,” Odo says as he removes his arm. He sits up and stretches. Quark tries not to stare too obviously. “Let’s go, Quark. I’ll walk you to the bar.”

“The bar?” Quark sits up as well, blinking. “I have to go back to my quarters - change my clothes, drop off my pajamas, put on my -”

“Fine,” Odo sighs. He leans back on his hands and glances over his shoulder at Quark. “I’ll walk you to your quarters first.”

That wasn’t what Quark was angling for, but he’s not about to pass up the opportunity.

“Okay,” he says, and they both get out of bed.

 

* * *

 

They fall into a pattern, night after night, switching beds and leaving spare sets of clothing in each other’s closets.

(It still surprises Quark to open his closet in the morning and see a lone uniform neatly hanging off to the side, contrasting starkly with the multi-colored coordinates crammed nearby.)

He’s starting to forget what it’s like to sleep alone.

 

* * *

 

Occasionally, Quark needs a stronger touch.

There’s a private holoprogram he made for dealing with such frustrations.

(A collaborative effort. Hanok had been so eager to help.)

He sits in the holo-Karemma’s lap and grinds himself shamelessly against the simulation of the trade minister.

This version of Hanok gives him a hard time, teasing him with dirty talk and an insistent tongue, thumbs bruising the insides of his thighs.

The hologram holds him far more roughly than the actual Hanok would and bites harder than the actual Hanok would ever dare, and it’s all Quark wants right now.

Simple and direct. No ambiguity.

Quark shuts his eyes as the hologram occupies him completely.

He wishes Hanok weren’t on the other side of the wormhole.

He wishes, just once, he could like someone at the right time and the right place.

 

* * *

 

Quark doesn’t know what he expects to change.

During the day, he and Odo act as they normally do, but something’s different.

They’re nicer to each other. It’s gradual, almost imperceptible. A higher frequency of smiles half-kept to themselves, fond glances averted a fraction too late. Sarcastic inflections barely masking something else underneath. Excuses to see each other when they have no reason to do so.

People figure it’s because of the mountain. They’re not entirely wrong.

 

* * *

 

He steps out of the holosuite one night to see Odo dozing off, arms folded, leaning against the wall.

“Odo?”

The Changeling snaps back to alertness with a start.

“It’s about time you’ve finished,” Odo grumbles, unfolding his arms. He yawns. “I stopped by the bar to walk you back, but you weren’t there.”

Quark groans to himself. “Lost track of time. Sorry. Is it that late?”

“Somewhat,” Odo replies.

He begins walking over, but the Changeling frowns once he gets a closer look at Quark’s face.

“You’ve been crying,” Odo says, alarmed. “Are you hurt?”

Quark keeps forgetting about his post-coital tears. “No, no, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Odo reaches for his face, and Quark’s eyes widen.

He lets Odo tilt his face up for inspection and he wonders if the Changeling can hear how loudly he’s breathing.

The more Quark thinks about his own breathing, the louder it gets. The more Odo touches him and examines his skin, the more he wants to run away.

“Odo, it’s fine,” Quark says, increasingly unnerved by Odo’s attention, but too needy to reject it.

“What were you doing in there?” Odo asks, still frowning, and Quark can almost _see_ the phrase ‘holodeck sexcapades’ flash through the Changeling’s mind. “Your neck’s bruised. Do you need to go to the Infirmary?”

“It’s not -” Quark sighs. Technically, Quark supposes a lovebite counts as a bruise, but he doesn’t feel like explaining himself. He’s too tired. “Listen, Odo, what I do in the holosuite is none of your business.”

Odo makes an affronted sound. “Quark, I’m not trying to pry.”

“Then try _trusting_ me when I say I’m fine,” Quark says, growing increasingly frustrated at the gentle way Odo holds him, because the Changeling never thinks about their touches leading elsewhere, and Quark thinks about it constantly. “I don’t need to go to the Infirmary. C’mon. Let’s go to sleep.”

Odo sighs. He places his hands on Quark’s shoulders, squeezes briefly, then lets his hands drop to his sides. “Very well. We’re in my quarters tonight. Do you need to fetch more blankets from your quarters?”

They both know the answer is no, not after Quark’s moved half of his blankets over to Odo’s, but Quark obliges with a reply anyway.

“Nah,” Quark says, and he starts walking away from the holosuite doors. “I’m good. You really should get another pillow, though.”

Odo follows him, chuckling. “Bring some from your quarters, then. You have too many, anyway.”

“No, I have just the right amount,” Quark replies, easing into the subject. “ _You_ , on the other hand…”

They chat pleasantly as they walk away together.

It almost feels normal.

 

* * *

 

Weeks go by before Quark starts wondering what might end the arrangement.

Another person, perhaps.

(He doesn’t want to think about any specific other person.)

It’d be stupid, for example, if Quark had a guest.

(Very few of Quark’s guests tended to stay until the morning anyway, but he’d rather leave the possibility open.)

It’d also be stupid, for example, if Odo met someone and couldn’t spend the night with them, solely because of an informal commitment.

Odo never voices any such concerns.

Quark’s been sleeping with the Changeling for weeks, and he still doesn’t know what Odo thinks.

 

* * *

 

They shift positions throughout the night, constantly rearranging their limbs in the dark.

More often than not, Quark wakes up with Odo’s arm draped over his side, holding him close.

He never feels an erection behind him when he wakes.

He’s not sure if it would make things easier.

 

* * *

 

One morning, Quark suggests they ease out of sleeping together every night.

“Why?” Odo asks, voice still gruff, not fully awake yet. His arm drapes around Quark, gentle and heavy.

“You’ve been sleeping well, right?” Quark tries to sound optimistic, like he’s bearing a gift of opportunity. “Maybe you’ve finished recovering by now. You won’t know until you try.”

Odo grunts. His eyes are half-lidded as he gazes at Quark. “Why do you want me to try?”

“Well.” Quark’s not sure how to say it. “I don’t think I’m better than a hypospray, Odo.”

“Hm?” Odo makes a dismissive sound. “What do you mean?”

“You’re relying on me to sleep,” Quark explains. “But it’s something you should be able to do on your own. Now, it’s one thing if you liked my company -”

“I do like your company,” Odo murmurs. He tightens the arm he’s wrapped around Quark, pulling him close. “And I like you in my bed.”

Quark suppresses a defeated sound.

“You don’t know any better,” Quark says, trying to convince himself by saying the words aloud. That works, sometimes. “So you’ve gotten addicted to having someone else around. But you can’t depend on that forever.”

Odo huffs a quiet laugh. His breath ghosts along Quark’s skin. “I know it won’t be forever, Quark.”

Something about the Changeling’s good humor makes Quark want to prove him wrong.

“Then let’s try sleeping separately tonight,” Quark says. “Our own beds, in our own quarters. What do you say?”

“I say you’re being unnecessarily stubborn about a successful arrangement,” Odo replies. He withdraws his arm and his hand brushes against Quark's side in the process. The light touch almost feels like a caress. “But if you insist. We can try.”

 

* * *

 

Quark stares at his ceiling in the dark.

He can’t hear anything from above.

He misses it.

 

* * *

 

When they sleep on the mountain, it’s at a distance.

There’s no spoken explanation for it. They’d be warmer together, sharing the same space.

Quark considers saying something, but neither wants to be the first to disrupt the pattern. Odo keeps falling asleep before he does, anyway, and Quark’s not about to make himself look pathetic by moving closer first.

It’s a different story when they’re awake. They stumble and climb together without much regard for personal space. No reservations about pushing each other forward, grabbing attention by grabbing a shoulder or arm, brushing against each other as they scramble to switch the thermal jacket and trousers.  

Quark deals with his nightmares by himself.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to foreign stars on a planet he never wanted to know. The faint light doesn’t illuminate much, but Quark doesn’t need to see much to remember the punishing journey awaiting them in the morning. It puts his nightmares in perspective.

Odo never seems to notice when he wakes up. The Changeling’s dead to the world, but Quark can still hear his breathing and heartbeats. Sometimes they synchronize. It’s almost hypnotic.

He listens to the sounds as he falls back asleep.

 

* * *

 

Maybe he’s just stuck with the Changeling for the rest of their lives.

The thought doesn’t horrify Quark like he thinks it should.

 

* * *

 

It’s the morning after their first night apart, and Quark considers taking the day off.

He feels terrible. He didn’t sleep well at all. His head swims with dehydration and water doesn’t seem to help much.

He’s standing at his replicator, trying to remember whether hangover remedies work better than water, when there’s a chime at the door.

“Enter,” Quark says, too tired to be apprehensive. Dangers have a tendency not to bother lurking outside the door before business hours begin.

Odo stalks into his quarters, looking somewhat harried and underslept.

Quark’s pleased to see him. More pleased than he’s comfortable being, and far more pleased than anyone looking at a beige man in a slightly less beige uniform ought to be.

“How did you sleep?” Odo asks.

“Terribly,” Quark replies without shame. “You?”

Odo nods. “Also terribly. Shall we resume our arrangement?”

Quark wants to say yes.

Instead, he hesitates.

“Quark?”

“I’ve been thinking.” Quark swallows, mouth dry. He should have replicated something before trying to decide whether it would work or not. “About the whole arrangement thing.”

“Yes?”

Quark drums his fingers on the replicator panel. “Maybe we should sit down.”

He walks over to his couch and watches Odo walk over to him.

The Changeling sits down next to him.

Directly.

Their hips touch and Quark doesn’t have room to move away. Their arms touch and Quark blushes at the contact.

“Odo,” Quark says faintly, “you’re sitting too close.”

The Changeling looks surprised. He backs off. “Oh. Sorry. You were saying?”

Quark tries to remember. They’re no longer touching, but the proximity’s still distracting.

Finally, he asks, “Have you thought about falling asleep without me? If I wasn’t around.”

Odo looks surprised again. “Well. Yes. I’ve thought about it."

“And?”

“I’ve contemplated the possibility of something happening to you.” Odo props himself up with a hand and leans heavily on the couch. “Injuries, or worse. Danger has a tendency to keep finding you.”

Quark stares at him. “I _meant_ if I had an overnight guest or something. Or if you did.”

“Oh."

“Nothing dangerous.”

“Right.” Odo yawns, then blinks at him sleepily.

“Besides, you’re the one who’s more likely to be in danger.” Quark leans back against the couch, thinking. “Or on overnight away missions.”

Odo nods. “And then I’d use the hyposprays.”

“But that’s…” Quark sighs. “You’re the one who didn’t want to use the hyposprays. It can’t just be hyposprays or me. What are you going to do instead? What are your alternatives?”

Odo just keeps gazing at him.

“Odo?”

“I’m thinking.” The Changeling glances at his eyes, then his mouth, then away.

Quark hates it when he does that.

The silence grows tense between them, until Quark’s too aware of the dryness in his mouth and the pounding in his head.

“I’m getting a drink while you think things over,” Quark says.

He has the replicator make him a black hole. The strong drink helps ease the pounding in his head, even though it does nothing to reduce his tension.

They look at each other from across the room, and another thought occurs to Quark.

He leans against the wall. “Have you thought about what you’d do if you meet someone you actually _do_ want to spend the night with?”

Odo’s smile fades. “What do you mean?”

Quark downs the rest of his drink.

He sets down the glass, then walks back over to the couch.

“I mean,” Quark says, as he sits back down, “say you meet someone. And you want to spend the night with her. What are you going to do after that? Tell her it’s been lovely, but you can’t fall asleep without drugs or your favorite bartender, so good night and you’ll call her in the morning?”

He watches Odo frown, but it’s different than the Changeling’s customary taciturn expression.

Melancholy. Almost sad.

“Quark,” Odo says. “Why do you keep saying ‘her’?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Quark blinks at him. Maybe he needs to get another black hole. “That’s what you like, right? That’s why you can sleep next to me like I’m just another pillow or security blanket.”

The frown deepens into something else. “You think I treat you like an object?”

Quark sighs. “Well, not exactly. More like something sexless.”

“Sexless…?” Odo asks, almost muttering to himself. “Quark, I’m not following.”

Sometimes Quark forgets the extent of Odo’s inexperience.

“You’re so -” Quark exhales in frustration. “Odo, you’re such a -” He makes a noise and shuts his eyes. Of _course_ Odo didn’t see anything sexual about sharing a bed, he was just being his naive Changeling self. “I don’t even know how to talk with you about this.”

“Try, Quark.”

He feels Odo’s fingers brush the back of his hand.

His eyes fly open.

Odo’s lightly stroking his knuckles.

“What are you doing?” Quark asks, but he doesn’t move his hand.

Odo’s voice is quiet. “I’ve missed touching you.”

The Changeling removes his hand.

“Sorry,” Odo says, and he sounds as tired as he looks. “I’m sorry, Quark. I didn’t… I never intended to start anything so complicated. It seemed like such a simple proposition at the time.”

“Seriously?” Quark laughs humorlessly. “What did you think would happen? That we could share the same bed without any side effects?”

“That was the plan,” Odo murmurs.

“And then what, Odo? We stay celibate for the rest of our lives, sleeping next to each other like monks?”

“Bajoran monks aren’t celibate,” Odo replies mildly.

Quark makes another frustrated noise. “Fine! _Fine_ , Odo. So we _don’t_ sleep next to each other like monks, we sleep next to each other like nuns, and don’t tell me that Bajoran nuns aren’t celibate either, and that apparently _every_ other Bajoran isn’t celibate except for you -”

“I’m not,” Odo interjects.

Quark swallows. “What?”

“I’m not celibate, or abstinent, or whatever other imprecise terms exist in that regard,” Odo says, patiently. “Quark, I haven’t had sexual relations with another individual yet, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been…” And his face colors faintly. “Inactive.”

Quark stares at him.

He needs another drink.

He really needs another drink but he can’t seem to make himself get up from the couch.

“The truth is,” Odo continues, “I’m… active, in a solitary manner, before you get to bed.”

Quark should have made himself two drinks when he was at the replicator.

“You can just say ‘masturbate,’” Quark tells him in a daze, distracted by thoughts of Odo echoing his own sojourns in the sonic shower.  

Odo chuckles dryly. “Regardless of the terminology, Quark, I didn’t want to get aroused in your presence. Not because I never want to,” Odo adds quickly, and something lightens inside Quark as the Changeling continues speaking. “And not because I think of you as sexless. But that wasn’t the point of our arrangement. I didn’t want to use my weakness as an excuse. And I didn’t want to take advantage of your pity for me, now that my shapeshifting’s been removed.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Quark mutters, mind still reeling from everything. “I don’t pity you.”

“You don’t?” Odo smiles in disbelief.

It’d be easier if he only felt pity for the Changeling, but he doesn’t.

“No,” Quark says.

Odo’s smile grows.

He reaches for Quark’s hand again, but before Odo can hesitate or ask him for permission or do anything else idiotic, Quark intertwines their fingers immediately.

“I can’t fucking believe you sometimes, Odo.” Quark’s face grows hot as Odo squeezes his hand. “All that time, you could’ve just _said_ something.”

Odo shrugs. “There never seemed to be an opportune time.”

“Oh _really_ ,” Quark says sarcastically, but he can’t help smiling. “I’m sure you could have found some time in between all that masturbation.”

Odo eyes him, then tugs hard on their intertwined hands until Quark’s pressed flush against his chest.

He wraps an arm around Quark’s back to keep him there.

“And _I’m_ sure,” Odo says, overly casual, despite the heightened heartbeat and shortness to his breath, “that _you_ could have found some time in between all the showers and holosuite visits as well.”

Quark grins, caught. “Not entirely fair, but -”

He’d finish his rejoinder, but Odo’s already tilted his face upwards for a kiss, and Quark finds he doesn’t have much else to say after that.

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from atwood's iconic fish hook poem ;)
> 
> thanks, margaret


End file.
